Have a nice day

A gift from London

Hey folks

Back from my blitz journey to London I wanted to give you all a gift. However, these days the currency for Enlightenment is worth less and less and so this is the best thing I could get you.

Love,

Eejit.

What's mainstream journalism?

O Land Whose Beacon Lights!

Life holds that dearer than itself, and men have thrown
God's gift down, and a rarer gift the world has known;
Yet they who fight for right and truth in open fray
May question well the fearful truth, grim war's relay.

O land whose beacon lights the flood of years, storm-tossed,
Stain not that tide with needless blood, lest all be lost!
Let not your beacon, dull with shame, withdraw its light,
Your sons, apostate, sign their name, Oppression's might,

Nor sons of those who gave their lives for liberty
Give theirs to swell a nation's loot beyond the sea,
And rest in alien soil that never can be ours,
Whatever the decrees of war or earthly powers.

When everything else fails, I use Poetry. Written by Julia E. Goodwin some hundred years ago. Inspired by the Philippine-American War. Beautiful Poetry. Read it and let your american friends read it too.

We lost

Thousands have died. A country is destroyed. Hate and Fundamentalism rise everyday. Our western society is on the verge of totalitarianism. The real political winner so far? Iran. At least you'd have thought there had been a degree of rationality in the decision to wage war. You'd have pondered they had a political rational strategy that would somehow justify their mass murdering. Nope. It was a matter of faith. Of God.

Enlightenment defeated.

Haute cuisine...

Mr. Orange: What happens if the manager won't give you the diamonds?
Mr. White: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Everybody jumps. He falls down screaming, blood squirts out of his nose, nobody says fucking shit after that. You might get some bitch talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her in the face next, watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. Managers know better than to fuck around, so if you get one that's giving you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.

Me too, burgers anyone?

Back in business

Vincent ... "When you come pulling in here, did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said dead nigger storage?"
Jules ... "Jimmy, you know I didn't see no shit."
Vincent ... "Did you notice a sign in the front of my house that said dead nigger storage?"
Jules ... "No, I didn't."
Vincent ... "You know why you didn't see that sign?"
Jules ... "Why?"
Vincent ... "Cause it ain't there, cause storing dead fucking niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why?"

And you, what's not your business?

I miss these guys...

Paul Cicero: Listen, I aint gonna get fucked like Gribbs, understand. Gribbs is 70 years old and the fuckin guy's gonna die in prison, I don't need that. So I'm warning everybody, EVERYBODY. It could be my son, it could be anybody. Gribbs got 20 years just for saying hello to some fuck who was sneaking behind his back selling junk, I don't need that, aint gonna happen to me, you understand.

Henry Hill: Uh huh.

Paul Cicero: You know that you're only out early because I got you a job. I don't need this heat, understand that.

Henry Hill: Uh huh.

Paul Cicero: And you see anybody fucking around with this shit you're going to tell me right. Henry Hill: Yeah.

Paul Cicero: [slaps him] That means anybody!

Henry Hill: Alright.

Paul Cicero: Yeah?

Henry Hill: Yeah, of course.

And we all know what happen then, don't we?